


Dust be My Destiny

by Insomniosa



Series: Noir Emblem [2]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Seisen no Keifu | Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War
Genre: Alternate Universe, Film Noir, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 15:59:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15710514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insomniosa/pseuds/Insomniosa
Summary: Life starts to work well for Seliph... and then he meets him.





	Dust be My Destiny

Seliph Baldo Chalphy had kept his life relatively low-profile all these times. 

 

Raised by an entrepreneur uncle whose feet landed where he thought prospect of money was, seliph spent his childhood moving from one place to another. To him, it was almost like each time he started to feel comfortable enough with his new surroundings, Uncle Oifey decided it was their time to hit the road again, and Seliph would find himself loading little what he had into boxes and said his goodbyes to the people he barely just got to call as friends.

Uncle Oifey, depite his business orientation, disliked big cities. He would tell Seliph how suffocating the atmosphere was, especially during the nights with all the neon lights and speeding cars around concrete jungles. Seliph knew better than pressing more, because if not a family drama that forced everyone to rebuild their lives from zero, he just did not like the idea of letting Uncle Oifey to endure more than what he had been through. 

Seliph had no qualms about living at the suburbs, because turned out he liked it more than what he expected. He was imagining cold lonely nights where he again had to cement social interactions with people he did not know, wondering what the future had saved for him which was not about Uncle Oifey or being the recipient of what would be left for him. Uncle Oifey himself was buried deep by his own work pile, leaving Seliph attending to himself most of the time. Still, he had someone to return home to, and on occasion his uncle would tell him how they only had each other in this unpredictable scheming world, so it was only natural for a guardian wanting the best for the child in his care. Yet, to Seliph the nights were peaceful despite their tranquility, and the town started growing on him.

But it was then. Seliph Chalphy was no longer a child, at least by societal standard. He was close to concluding his university studies, and expected to graduate in a few months. Seliph started to find the small town's atmosphere endearing because unlike the busy and unforgiving big cities, he had made genuine connections with the people he went to school to; people he could call as friends with all heart and soul. The kind of people who would drag him to an ice cream parlor whenever he seemed down, and people who just accepted his simple explanation when, for the first time in forever after a few drinks, he admitted he lived to stay away from a family fallout which aftermath still haunted a few of his known relatives so far. That, and how he could not possibly go back to his birthplace because his step-father disowned him. 

Uncle Oifey started making plans for the future, though. He had conveyed to Seliph how he wished to weave Seliph into his business, first as an intern, and then trading partner. To reclaim the family fortune that was lost, as he would say, because no way he would let Seliph's step-father and step-brother Julius get away after taking so much from his family. Seliph had dreamed about giving a long-deserved good life for his relative, Julia, who was now sent abroad to live with a family friend so the family did not pester her. From letter to letter, he concluded that Julia was a pleasant, interesting person, contrary to what he heard of Julius, now a promising young business tycoon, who had no remorse whatsoever driving children homeless because of his unethical property business. Personally Seliph would just love to get to know Julius, but Uncle Oifey kept telling him that whomsoever built their fortune with blood money was not to be trusted.

Seliph glanced around, sighing. He wondered if wealth and power had blinded his family so much that they were willing to eat each other's flesh. Although his late father was pushed out to poverty, at least they both had a happy time despite hardships which eventually inflamed his organs. Life did break his body, but never his spirit. And that kept him going each time he felt like giving up, be it the mundane routines he wondered where to end, or the depressive thoughts of being useless for depending on Uncle Oifey.

Thus, Seliph seized every chance he could find. Whenever his friends needed help with anything, he would be there. He started making a name of himself in campus, and somehow that drove people to like him enough that they were willing to stand by him each time life got him down again. Tuition. Books. Summer jobs. And sometimes just not having money because Seliph understood too well what it was like to be poor, so he did not hesitate to draw some bills out of his pocket each time someone else looked troubled. The sad part was some people were willing to do anything for extra penny, including serenading a good guy about a sick relative they never had. 

"Are you the new boy they are talking about?"

Seliph lifted his gaze from the counter. He just finished putting more candies into a box near the cash register. Uncle Oifey had insisted that he concentrated on college, but Seliph had wanted to see the world by himself and probably be a little bit more independent by making his own pocket money. He understood that working small businesses meant he might clash with his step father's enterprise empire, and with all the grieving wounds they were still processing, Uncle Oifey wanted to shield him from the world forever if possible. But the older man's dream would never come to fruition. The moment a pair of wings spread, that very moment the bird would feel the wind.

"Yes, I am the new cashier. Can I help you?" Seliph greeted his potential buyer. Expensive leather shoes, chocolate-colored tie with hair shining like the light because of gel. He had heard of folks like this, the nouveau-riche. People who just became rich, and often times came with new ego to suit their new wallets. 

"Do you have a..." the man looked at him like he was a pool of mud before mentioning a certain brand of cigarette pack.

"I'm afraid we don't right now," Seliph shook his head. "But if you are willing to wait, I can check today with the manager. Please come again the next day. In the meantime, can I offer you other brands instead?" Lo! There came a barrage of insults and mentions about inadequacy, and of course, with a perfect  _do you know who I am?_ finale. Seliph endured all the kingly customer craps thrown at him, but he totally did not anticipate when a taller figure came closer.

"Are you yapping or paying, or can you move if you are not going to buy anything?"

It was almost like time froze right away for Seliph. The young man had beautiful shiny gold-colored hair which reached his shoulders. He had a tall and athletic built, as his muscle shapes subtly...  _coyly,_ Seliph thought, peeking under those rolled sleeves. The blue jeans he wore accentuated his hair color more, with his tan shirt being the horizon of this sea-and-sun landscape. It was a pretty daring clothing choice for the time when people asserted on being proper, but with the uncanny greeting he gave to the kingly customer, in Seliph's eyes, this man was already rebellion personified. And _rebellion_ was not a concept he ever truly thought about until  _today_. True, Uncle Oifey kept telling him to reclaim the family fortune whatsoever, which he planned by reaching to former business associates in hopes of reining in Julius' empire before it consumed the smaller ones. True, Uncle Oifey had told him a thing or two about trade union, which he started researching while at school. For Seliph, his being alive itself was a form of rebellion; a refusal to back down and be crushed, just like how his late father led a noble life until the end. But to  _act_ like it, especially since deep down he fancied their peaceful small town as he valued the connections he made... was out of question. And this stranger's presence manifested everything he could think of when he pictured a rebel: courageous, unyielding, and most definitely... strong.

"You dare to talk like that to me?!"

"Yeah?" the sunshine-haired stranger replied dismissively, arching his body forward. He was taller than the loudmouthed nouveau riche, but the imposing manner and threat-impermeable speech just made him look  _gigantic._

"You know who I am?"

"I don't care," there was a smile of satisfaction as he casually moved to the counter, knocking aside the rich man with his shoulder. "I'd like the first cigarette brand you mentioned as an alternative."

"Certainly, Sir," Seliph greeted him with a smile. He wondered if this was what people felt when Robin Hood addressed them. The sensation of budding courage and for an unfettered person to voice what they thought. 

"Wait---"

"What, do you want to take it outside?" the blonde glared again. "Make sure your mouth is big enough for my sole. I observed you kept talking about your money, how about I make you spend it at the hospital, then?"

Seliph sighed. The rich man was now out of sight, and he extended his arm to the blond savior. "Thank you. I don't like fighting, really, I wish that did not have to happen."

"You don't like it?" the blonde replied gruffly, still keeping his arm hanging. "Sadly people like that will make you. If I were you, I'd decide whether I want to be the victim or the winner."

"Ah..."

The blonde averted his gaze, now appraising Seliph from head to toe. "To your credit, honestly I don't like it either." 

"I... see," Seliph nodded, not knowing what to say. So rebellion was also frank and realistic as much as he was brave, huh. "Thank you again. I'm Seliph and I live just a few blocks from here. At the end of the street, small house with red rooftop. Come for coffee sometime."

"You invite strangers at ease like that?"

"Eh..." Seliph smiled sheepishly, completing a profile of rebellion with the other man's last reply: frank and realistic but brave, and also... cautious? "... Yes? I made friends in this small town and they never hesitated to offer me a help. It really brought wonders during my first months here," he explained. "I think I am simply distributing the kindness I received, so..."

"You see me as someone to help?"

"N-no," Seliph's reply came muffled. This tall blonde was formidable, he thought, and he wondered if his well-meaning gesture was taken as an offense or unnecessary friendliness. "But yes? I mean... at some point we will need helping. And I'm not going to lose the world just because I have some coffee to share. And I will gladly with you, because... you know, you kinda saved me and taught me to be brave?"

"Odd fellow, aren't you," the blonde sighed. "Regardless, do you drive? I am going home in a few hours but I will be around here. I know types like that, they will not stop until they taste their own medicine. Frankly, and I don't mean to offend you by this, you look rather frail and I can see why you make a fine target."

"Ahaha, you don't, it's alright, I've been told the same..." Seliph chuckled. "I take tram by the way."

"I honestly thought you were a woman," the blonde responded, "and I had to step in. That would be low even for a rich asshole."

"I agree," Seliph's lips pursed into a smile. "And since I am not, you probably regret it."

"I don't," the blonde replied frankly. "Well, pay attention to your surroundings. I've seen that guy around acting like a shit stain so I'm not surprised to find him here."

"You're here often?"

The blonde coughed. "... This grocery store's security during the nights. Gotta make a living, you know?"

"No wonder you are tough!" Seliph exclaimed. "Cashiering in the afternoon, college student in the morning. Gotta make a living too."

The blonde gave a faint smile and his previously ferocious eyes softened a bit. "I suppose. Frankly, I was a bit surprised when you told me where you live."

"Then I am not as bad because you turned out to be a security personnel. I don't hear security guys committing trespassing and robberies often," Seliph chuckled.

"That's not what I meant, though," the blonde cleared his throat. "I was surprised because we are practically neighbors."

"Oh?" Seliph cocked an eyebrow. "Well, lucky me I guess. Or... bad luck for you?"

The blonde chuckled subtly this time, but his eyes were not hostile. "I hardly even have luck whatsoever. Alright then, Seliph." He nodded before taking a leave.

"Name?"

"What?"

"Since we are going to be neighbors. Or do I have to shout 'hey, security!' to address you, because that way everyone will come except you."

The blonde did not respond as he looked like contemplating some things in silence. But the expression in his eyes was really different this time, and Seliph was sure enough there was a hearty laughter in them. Light hazel, almost gold. Burning sun, bright and fiery like the person himself. "... Ares," he eventually spoke. "I am Ares."

So rebellion was not only courageous, frank, realistic, strong, or even cautious; apparently it was also the god of war.

* * *

 

 

Out of surprises Seliph encountered after moving to the small town of Darna, god of war-personified slash rebellion-is-my-middle-name fellow was something he totally did not imagine. He quickly learned that he and Ares were like the morning and the afternoon just as their hair color depicted. Ares seemed to live alone, if not secluded. He was not the chatty type, that was for sure, and milkmaid did not even knock because apparently the dagger-glare eyes were a legend in town. Sometimes, he would find Ares checking the mailbox when he was about to leave for school. And he noted that during some of those moments, his eccentric neighbor was out still clad in uniform, rolled sleeves and loosened tie, a small sign that he probably just got back from work after a shift. They would exchange respective courteous nods, with him running to catch the tram and Ares yawning while going back inside with newspapers and letters folded under his armpit. Some other times he would catch Ares getting ready to leave as he got home, and again they would exchange their typical courteous neighborly nod as a sign of acknowledgment. One other, Ares awkwardly asked him if he was old enough to drink, and he did not have to guess Ares blurted out his question out of the blue because of... loneliness. Thus his note grew a bit more. That rebellion was not only about strength, bravery, or cautiousness, but it also could be  _lonely._ Seliph had caught Uncle Oifey looking at a family album some nights, and he wondered if his uncle felt remorse about his step-father despite his strong disapproval of the latter's actions. 

It was not only Ares who got a drinking buddy; Ares got to know some people as Seliph introduced him to his friends. The god of war would still have that  _eeegghh so noisy goddarnit,_ expression on his face, but those fiery hazel eyes conveyed a silent thank you instead. The day after one occasion where he and Ares wasted themselves at a bar, Seliph slid a paper bag into his briefcase. Simple homemade sandwich with fresh apple from the grocery store and a slice of chocofudge Uncle Oifey made. Seliph anticipated a storm when Ares waited for him the next morning with dagger-glare eyes and folded arms, but his sharp  _do not trespass my personal things again_ quickly melted into a curious, yielding  _how did you know what I like?_ inquiry. And with it, Seliph laughed. He laughed and laughed as if he never laughed since his step-father denounced him, and Ares did not say a word when he cheerily announced they were best friends now. 

Seliph noticed other things besides the foods Ares liked, however. Like how his father was violently murdered by a heartless person during the Great Depression, he said, voice drifting between dream and reality as his tongue felt the sharp taste of tequila. Or how his mother did everything she could to feed him while battling clinical depression and eventually actual sickness which only stopped hurting until she died. How there was some fallout between her and his aunt, whose whereabouts were unknown to him at this point. How he became a guard hoping to find traces about the murderer because economic catastrophe killed his dream to go to police academy,  _which was probably better this way,_ he added, setting aside the glass before taking another. How restless he felt when he heard that the murderer had died too, but left a son.

That night, Seliph really felt his heartache, and he could not help but enveloping the taller man into a tight sympathetic hug as the latter's body nearly collapsed under the weight of his drinks.

* * *

 

 

Seliph noted how Ares valued his freedom and individuality, so he was rather surprised to see another car parked in front of the latter's house when he got home from school. When the night came down Seliph peeked from his window to find the car was still there, and he wondered if a relative was visiting. The house from across the street was quiet, but something tickled Seliph's radar because it just felt awfully quiet. He wondered if it was because he had been accustomed to Ares welcoming him into his life, or that there was a tad  _jealousy_ that someone might take that away. Ares taught him to be brave and unyielding, something he had always been struggling to do despite knowing what life had in store for him. Ares was clouded with uncertainties, yet he pressed on and seemingly to always be ready kicking life where it hurt. One drinking night Ares told him how he had everything---a nice,  _living_ relative who shared a house with him and acted as his guardian, a group of loyal friends who were willing to fight tooth and nails for him. What Seliph did not say was Ares in one person possessed what he was still learning even this day, and one of them was determination among other things. Instead, he simply said he thought Ares was cooler for looking like an actual adult since he had his own house and car. Ares merely smirked. 

Seliph anxiously eyed any uniform-wearing person who came into the store, but there was no sign of him. He still saw Ares' car and the guest's car parked at his house, so by then he understood that Ares did not come to work. Seliph gathered his resolve to visit his neighbor, this time without the courteous neighborly nod they did to prelude their interaction as usual. He grabbed some fruits and canned soup at the store, loading them into his own brown bag and nearly tumbled when the tram stopped at their block. Ares was strong. The god of war was a rebellion of mankind. If he could not pick up a sword today, then perhaps...

Seliph knocked. There was no answer and he had contemplated calling for the police at this moment. What if anyone in the car murdered him? No matter how tough he was, Ares lived alone. And most likely he would not ever think of asking for help from another. But if it was a murder, then either car should have gone then. Yet both cars were there, and whoever thought of holding Ares hostage in his own dwelling should have prepared to outsmart a security personnel... right? Ares might be aloof, but it did not mean that he had no neighbors...  _aware_ neighbors. Like how Seliph's eyes were now keeping tabs for the whole day.

Seliph did not know how long he had been asleep when he heard something. He gingerly looked outside from the window, seeing the strange car disappeared and Ares sending it off. His body language conveyed uneasiness, and their eyes accidentally met as Seliph hurriedly closed the window, feeling so unfair and bad for spying on Ares like that. Seliph could see silent, budding rage in those fiery eyes, and he wondered what he could scrape to salvage what he destroyed in seconds.

He hardly saw Ares again in the next few days, but he knew his neighbor was there doing his things as usual. He wondered if it was his good luck that shielded him from Ares' wrath so they never caught each other's presence like they were before, or it was Ares' bad luck for not finding him to raise the hell...

 

... Which explains why Seliph was so relieved when he saw Ares' towering figure crossing the street and actually stopped at his house. Seliph nearly flew down the stairs to greet the friend that was lost when Ares' steady knocking could be heard from the outside.

"Seliph?" he called.

Seliph was about to reply when Ares followed up his own greeting. His voice was lower, angrier, if not  _wrathful._

"Son of Sigurd?"


End file.
